The Other Lost Hero
by Aravis exTarkheena
Summary: An alternative depiction of Percabeth's reunion. Some playful banter and Annabeth reminisces about old times. Both Annabeth's and Percy's POV. Percy saw the huge warship's shadow slinking across New Rome, and his heartbeat kicked it up a notch. Nothing could have prepared him for how very big, how, unfortunately, very menacing, and how very capable of holding Annabeth it was.


**_A/N: I, unfortunately, do not own Percy Jackson, though I consider the characters to be my best of friends. All credit for the characters and the basic structure of events in this short goes to the genius troll Mr. Riordan. I wrote this after MOA came out because, as much as I adored the book, the reunion was not how I had imagined it. It seemed as though their relationship had changed, and it has_ every _right to, however I found myself pining for the old Percabeth. This is my first fanfiction; I would appreciate any and all feedback, especially concerning the authenticity of the characters. Please, Enjoy..._****_  
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_Percy:_

As soon as Percy saw the huge warship's shadow slinking across New Rome, his heartbeat kicked it up a notch. Nothing could have prepared him for how very big, how, unfortunately, very menacing, and how very capable of holding Annabeth it was. Since they were twelve, he and Annabeth had shared every happy moment and every near death experience together. Every time Percy had lain on the ground with an enemy weapon poised above his chest, Annabeth had been there, not only to save his life, but look down with a smile and offer her hand to help him up. Nothing could have prepared him for the desolation that he had felt when he was away from her. There had been times when he would wake up in the middle of the night with tears rolling down his cheeks, missing her, and have to stagger outside and retch in the bushes behind his Barrack. She was his only unwavering lifeline, and after almost losing her last summer, Hera had just sprinkled salt into his wound. So when Percy glimpsed her bouncing blonde curls descending the rope ladder, he could hardly keep his voice from cracking. He was tempted to run, at first, but he was pretty sure that his new responsibilities as Praetor did not include running and jumping like an Aphrodite girl at the Titanic 3D premier. So he stopped—reluctantly—next to his fellow praetor who was waiting to either hug, or disembowel the arriving Greek demigods.

Speaking of which, Percy could see them walking towards the forum now. There was Sammy—_wait that was really Leo_, Percy thought_._ Mischievous and elf-like, he stood next to a tanned, blonde guy wearing a Camp-Half-Blood T-Shirt and…was that? Yeah, that was definitely a purple bed sheet, straight from the Dionysus Cabin. Camp Half Blood, apparently, didn't have any togas to spare. Holding his hand was a cute brunette girl with choppy braids and a face, that although devoid of makeup, was beautiful. The way that she didn't wear makeup or do her hair kind of reminded him of Annabeth. She had that, yeah-right-like-there's-time-for-beauty-salon-trips-in-my- monster-fighting-schedule attitude. Then of course, right with them was Annabeth. Her cheeks were flushed, and she nervously fingered her knife's scabbard that was strapped to her arm. Percy couldn't wait to be called Seaweed Brain again and he just couldn't get over the way that Annabeth seemed to be in control of her little group of demigods that would soon be off to save the world. Percy smiled, if they managed to keep the world from getting destroyed this time, Annabeth and he would be 0-2: evil forces of destruction-0, epically unbeatable demigods of earth-2. By the way that Reyna stared Annabeth down, and how Annabeth just cocked her head and stared right back in that cute but kinda scary little way of hers, Percy could tell that she hadn't made this journey just to save the world.

She was struggling to keep it together, as she scanned the line of Roman demigods, because when he and Annabeth made eye contact, he could see the pain in her face. It was as if she had been holding the sky again, and he knew how she felt. Being away from her had dropped the weight of the world on his shoulders, you know…as usual, but this time there was no one standing next to him to share the burden with. Percy looked nervously at the dirt and remembered how Annabeth would draw capture the flag strategies absentmindedly in the dust, while she held his hand-their feet dangling in the river. Percy took a few tentative steps forward and received the full force of running tackle. Good ol' Frank behind him made sure that he didn't fall completely over, but he staggered and had to find his balance. After almost a year, he rested his cheek on her sun-warmed and windblown hair that smelled of summer sun and strawberries—home.

_Annabeth:_

Annabeth couldn't move. All she could take in was her lost hero, standing right in front of her. The sights and sounds around them seemed to slow and muddle together. She watched his sea-green eyes sparkle, his black hair dance in the wind, and his arms, ever so slightly open, to her. In the next second she was running. Her face was twitching, trembling, and trying not to cry. Then he was there, she felt his warm chest, and rested her head on his shoulder.

Annabeth could remember all the times she'd ever felt safe in Seaweed Brain's arms. There was the time on Charon's boat, when she'd grabbed his hand just to make sure that there was a living person next to her, and the time Percy had comforted her after she had listened to the Siren's Song. Even after she had taken a knife for him, he had caught her and made sure that no one came near. She felt protected now, as she had then. Even though Percy was the one whose memory had been stolen, and had been sent to an enemy camp, forced to fend for himself, she still felt as though he were whispering: i_t's okay, no one can touch you, and I won't let anyone take you away from me._

Percy had a special way of holding Annabeth. It was gentle but strong, so that she could feel his muscles tensing but not crushing her. Today though, his arms were trembling, his face between laughter and tears, so when he kissed her gently but lovingly on the forehead, still holding her and rocking her side to side, Annabeth got goose bumps. When he raised his right arm, the arm with tattoos just like Jason's, and used his thumb to lift up her chin and look him in the eye, tears began to slide down Annabeth's cheeks.

Percy whispered in her ear, "Shhh, Annabeth, you're so strong. No one deserves to see you cry." And he didn't let anyone, that's why she loved him. When he finally let her go, she gave him a grateful smile and laughed, mostly out of relief.

"Hey there, Seaweed Brain," she giggled. But Percy just gave her a puzzled look.

Annabeth nearly panicked. "Don't you remember? To me you've been…I've called you that…since…since…"

"No, it's just you're even prettier that I remember, Wise Girl.

Relieved, Annabeth countered, "Yeah, well, you've been gone a while, Mister."

He sighed, "Hey, I got lost. Directionally challenged I guess…and ADHD."

Annabeth laughed, "Stay on any mysterious islands or anything? Meet anyone that I should know about while you were gone?"

"No one who was as good at saving my butt as you," and then he grinned like an idiot. Annabeth gave him a well-deserved, but playful shove.

"Hey you guys didn't clear out my cabin yet, have you?"

"Nah, no one would even go in there. It stinks, Kelp Face." Truth be told, Annabeth had refused to let anyone touch his stuff while he had been…away, but she had spent a lot more time in there than he realized. She had found things: a picture of her and Percy in her dad's Sopwith Camel, both blushing, with his arm around her. They were glaring indignantly at the photographer through old-fashioned aviator goggles. Annabeth could hear her dad chanting in the background now. _Percy and Annabeth sittin' in my plane! P-H-I-L-I-A_! (Philia meant love in Greek)

Annabeth had found the picture, in a box under Percy's camp bunk. With it were a few others, including one of her and Percy laughing on the steps of Poseidon's new temple on Olympus, which she had designed. But lying on top of all of Percy's possessions was a memento she had almost forgotten-a severed Minotaur horn, dusty, and nearly five years old. It was a trophy from the first monster Percy had ever fought, and as she thought about it she realized that Percy hadn't changed much since that night on Half-blood Hill. He would still do anything to protect the person he loved; only now, he was just a little bit older, sadder, wiser, and a more bitter than before. She could see why. They had saved the world already. They had done their duty. It was supposed to be over, and all this pain was supposed to be gone.

"Hey, Annabeth!" Percy snapped his fingers in front of her nose. "Aren't you hungry? I think that there's a welcoming feast and everything planned for you guys."

"Sorry, just, you know, thinking…I guess." Percy looked at her with concern.

Annabeth grabbed his hand, intent on having him walk to dinner with the Greeks. But almost imperceptibly he shook his head. Although Annabeth knew she couldn't just take the Roman's praetor (it was his duty to stay with the Roman campers), she was hurt.

By the gods, by Gaea, by everyone and anyone who had ever used her as a pawn.


End file.
